


Pillowtalk

by Kozumye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #Kurokenday2021, Boys Kissing, Comfort Reading, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Idiots in Love, KuroKen - Freeform, Kuroken day, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, original pets, pillowtalk, they are in love your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kozumye/pseuds/Kozumye
Summary: Deep down, Kuroo thinks Kenma is the cheesier one- the one who dwells on things more often, the one who holds things closer to his heart. Maybe Kuroo is more verbal about his feelings for Kenma, maybe Kuroo is better at words of affirmation, maybe Kuroo is better at initiating touch in public… But Kenma’s love is more internal. Kuroo knows that. He knows that Kenma wears his shirts when he’s at work because he misses his scent, he knows that Kenma thinks of him each time he texts him ‘good morning’ in the middle of the day, when Kuroo’s already had his lunch break, he knows that Kenma’s looking after him when he checks his pill cases to see if Kuroo’s taken his today or not… Kenma’s sentimental, whether he wants to be or not. Kuroo can see how much Kenma loves him in the simplest things that he’s not supposed to see. And Kuroo can’t help but love him entirely.[ Written for Kuroken day, 1/5/21 ]
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 15
Kudos: 130
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	Pillowtalk

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just achingly tooth-rotting fluff. No major plotline, just non-sexual pillowtalk and domestic Kuroken.  
> Written for Kuroken day 1/5/21 !!

It’s easy tonight.

Kenma knows that the second Kuroo comes home from work, sighs loud and long, and smiles at the home around him. Kenma knows that the second Kuroo kisses his forehead, then their cat’s, then their dog’s. Kenma knows that the second Kuroo steps out of his shower and dresses himself in sweatpants that hang low on his hips and ride up on his calves.

Kenma’s always in bed by the time Kuroo gets home, snuggled up against the headboard in a hoodie that’s not his and multiple blankets to balance out the overhead fan clicked-on. Their dog, Cookie, is curled up at his feet, still taking up a good amount of the Californian king sized bed, and their cat, Baby, is nestled in his lap. He flicks the joysticks on the Switch controller back and forth, eyes trained on the T.V. where he's playing a game.

Kuroo slides in next to him, still warm with dripping hair and smelling like soap, smelling like autumn. Kenma smiles a bit when Kuroo exhales into his shoulder, presses a kiss there, then to his cheek. He smiles a bit when Kuroo slides his arms around Kenma’s torso, pulls him closer, his long legs folding up underneath them. Kuroo was a huge snuggler.

“How was work?” Kenma asks, absentmindedly paying attention to the way Kuroo twirled strands of his long hair around his fingers, lazily glancing up to watch Kenma play his game every once in a while.

“Hmm,” Kuroo responded, a long-winded exhale escaping him. “Kinda sucked, if I’m being honest. There are college kids there now, temps that barely know how to order coffee. I’m not the one training them, but they’re on the same floor as me, so there’s the constant in-and-out and excess chatter…”

The small smile on Kenma’s lips grows slightly wider, a tiny smirk in response to Kuroo’s words. “You’re becoming an old man, Kuro.”

Kuroo guffaws at him, but doesn’t retract any of his hugging hands.

“I am not! I just don’t like when things are too loud for no reason, okay? Or when people can’t take clear instructions after being told multiple times over and over and over…” Kuroo can feel Kenma’s eyes, wide and giving him that _I’m calling you out on your bullshit_ look. “Okay, fine, maybe I’m getting a little old.”

“Thirty’s approaching,” Kenma replies absently, voice sounding slightly distant as his round eyes find their way back to the T.V. screen.

“Don’t remind me.” Kuroo groans and pushes his face deeper into the side of Kenma’s neck. He inhales for a moment, basking in the scent of Kenma’s shampoo. He places a kiss right in the initial curve between his neck and shoulder, and Kenma squirms a bit.

“It’s hard not to remind you. You’re going to be so old and wrinkly at the altar.”

“I will _not_ be old and wrinkly!” Kuroo cries in protest.

Somewhere between their words, Kuroo’s hands find their way under Kenma’s (Kuroo’s) hoodie, his fingertips ghosting across his skin. Kenma squirmed again, away from the hot touch, and the side-eyed glances to Kuroo served as warnings. He knew what was bound to happen, what was bound to come next, and yet he still didn’t push him away.

“Kuro,” Kenma murmured out between grimaced teeth, “don’t.”

It’s a warning, but Kuroo’s smirking like the bastard he is, because he wants to hear Kenma laugh.

So he wiggles his fingers. And oh, it’s melodic. Kuroo knows Kenma hates being tickled, but it’s just so tempting like this, to hear that sweet, gorgeous sound bubble up from his throat, unhinged and without worry of who’s listening.

“Kuro!” Kenma cries in shock, his legs acting in reflex as he kicks Kuroo away from him, small laughs subsiding as he finally escapes his grasp.

“Stop doing that,” He groans, huddling against the wall. Cookie was disrupted by the fit that he’d caused, and she paws her way over to check on Kenma, her nose nudging his hands. Even with the ugly expression on his face, his dog can always melt that away. (Meanwhile, Baby had since run away from the action, hopping to the windowsill and hoping to be uninterrupted for the rest of the night.)

“I’m sorry!” Kuroo’s laughing too, but he cuts it off and smiles fondly at Kenma instead, watches the way he interacts with Cookie; scratches her ears, pats her head, lets her lean into him. Even though the dog was Kuroo’s idea, and Kenma had been fairly reluctant about getting her, there’s no doubt in Kuroo’s mind that Kenma loves Cookie just as much as Baby. They were essentially their kids, after all.  
  


“I just wanted to hear you laugh, babydoll,” Kuroo explains, pleading with his eyes for Kenma to come back to him. With a huff and a sigh, Kenma shuffles back over to Kuroo, securing his hoodie over his thighs so another incident like that won’t happen again. Kuroo doesn’t miss the slight pink dusting across Kenma’s cheeks, though, and he’s quick to give him an easy peck.

“You’re not forgiven,” Kenma says, but he leans into Kuroo’s chest. He saves his game and tosses Kuroo the remote, allowing him to pick through his nightly shows.

“I think I can gain your forgiveness,” Kuroo responds. He chooses a random show that neither will pay attention to, and his strong arms fit around Kenma’s waist. He buries his face in Kenma’s neck, just like before, and peppers kisses along the soft patterns of his skin. Kenma fidgets, but he doesn’t pull away, and Kuroo knows that he’s blushing.

Even after years of being together, being engaged, Kenma still gets flustered over the small things sometimes. He likes them, of course, but he can’t help but think _how embarrassing_. Still, he wraps his legs around Kuroo’s, tilts his head up so that his lips can touch his skin in more places, a ghost of a grin emerging on his pink lips.

“You’re beautiful, Kenma.”

Kenma groans, low and frustrated, and he sinks further into Kuroo’s arms. Kuroo lifts his head and presses his forehead to Kenma’s temple, his fingertips careful and calculating as he brushes the strands of hair off of Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma hums at that, eyes fluttering closed as Kuroo cards his long fingers through his hair.

It’s quiet for a while- not silent, because there’s some show playing on the T.V. at a low volume, a cool ambient sound to fill the empty air around them. It’s quiet, but it’s calm. It’s loving. Kenma can’t think of a place he’d want to be more than right here, in Kuroo’s arms, as the clock nears 11pm.

“Kuro,” Kenma begins, breaking the silence, and his voice is soft and careful. “Do you want to talk about the wedding?”

His soft tone alludes that he wants to talk about the thing they haven’t been acknowledging for a while, the thing that Kuroo’s been ignoring every time it’s brought up. Kuroo’s eyes flicker down for a moment, watching the way his knuckles are brushing warmly against Kenma’s own knuckles, and he deflates. He sighs with a shrug, and Kenma turns into him, chest-to-chest and lips-to-forehead.

“There’s really only one question for you to answer… You know that, right?” Kenma murmurs, eyes shifting to trace the lines in Kuroo’s arm muscles. He’d never been good at eye contact in stressful or serious situations, and he was glad that Kuroo didn’t force him to do anything like that. He enjoyed being where he could just exist and be loved, and Kuroo was that for him.

“Ask me, then. I’ll answer it tonight.” Kuroo’s lips brush against Kenma’s forehead as he speaks.

“Do you want her to be there…?”

There’s a long pause, and Kenma almost wants to pull back to see if Kuroo’s breathing or not, but he can hear the beating of his heart from here already.

“I don’t think I do…” Kuroo answers. He’s quick with his sharp inhale, words spilling out of him as he tries to justify his answer: “But it’s not because I don’t love her, it’s just- she ruins things, important things, and I-… I don’t want our wedding to be another thing that’s ruined by someone who hasn’t even seen me since my eighteenth birthday, and-“

Kenma’s icy fingers are on Kuroo’s cheek, and he’s looking up at him with those big, golden eyes, showing him understanding.

“It’s okay.” Kenma says. He lets his fingers hold Kuroo’s face for a moment, and he leans up to kiss his jaw, comforting and sweet. “Not everyone invites their mom to their wedding, Kuro. It’s not that big of a deal. As long as you’re comfortable.”

_'As long as you’re comfortable'_ had been a thing with them for as long as they can remember. The days when little Kuroo would climb the pole outside little Kenma’s window to slip him a note asking him, in very inexperienced handwriting, if he wanted to come to the park this weekend, but only if he’s comfortable. Kenma doesn’t know why Kuroo used to insist on little notes instead of just asking his parents, or knocking at the door, but he can’t be mad. (He still has them all, hidden in a book somewhere on the shelf of his parent’s home. He thinks that’s how he fell in love with him, with the way he wrote his name in Kanji at the top of every little slip of paper, as if Kenma really needed a way to differentiate who was sending him letters. It was only ever Kuroo.)

Kuroo lets out the breath he’d been holding, and he frowns, pushing his nose to the top of Kenma’s head. He nestles there for a moment, then kisses his part, and relaxes all at once.

“Thank you,” He murmured, and Kenma just shrugged ever so slightly.

“I mean,” Kenma continued, voice still low and warm, “Your dad and sister already know, right? And my parents will be there, too.” He pauses, hands dropping from Kuroo’s face to rest on his chest.

Kuroo’s dad and sister know because Kuroo had originally asked them for help on how to propose to Kenma… But he was too late. Kenma proposed first, even just a few days after Kuroo had asked his family about it- it was comical at first, but they’d saved the trouble of getting engagement rings for each other that way. They didn’t match, Kenma’s was a flat gold band (He adored it, simple yet meaningful) and Kuroo’s was silver with six diamonds studded into it. Five on one side, one on the other side. A testament to their past, Kenma had said. They didn’t care if they were matching or not, anyway. Just that they were engaged.

(Deep down, Kuroo thinks Kenma is the cheesier one- the one who dwells on things more often, the one who holds things closer to his heart. Maybe Kuroo is more verbal about his feelings for Kenma, maybe Kuroo is better at words of affirmation, maybe Kuroo is better at initiating touch in public… But Kenma’s love is more internal. Kuroo knows that. He knows that Kenma wears his shirts when he’s at work because he misses his scent, he knows that Kenma thinks of him each time he texts him ‘good morning’ in the middle of the day, when Kuroo’s already had his lunch break, he knows that Kenma’s looking after him when he checks his pill cases to see if Kuroo’s taken his today or not… Kenma’s sentimental, whether he wants to be or not. Kuroo can see how much Kenma loves him in the simplest things that he’s not supposed to see. And Kuroo can’t help but love him entirely.)

“Everyone will be there for you,” Kenma finishes.

“And you.” Kuroo nudges him slightly with his shoulder.

“I know, but that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Kuroo hums in response, and he lets his eyes flutter closed.

Cookie relaxes back at their feet, and Kenma almost drifts off earlier than usual in the loving atmosphere they’d created- in their little bubble like this- but he’s brought back by the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

“I keep thinking about that promotion offer.” Kuroo’s voice is as gentle as it always is at this time of night- it’s nearing 11:30 now, still relatively early for Kenma, but he’s a victim to the sweet sweet way Kuroo cradles him like the flame of a candle he doesn’t want to burn out.

“Mhm?” Kenma yawns, acknowledging that he’s listening. Kuroo had gotten an offer for a promotion a few days ago, but there were a few… drawbacks.

“Mhm.” Kuroo answers in mimic. “They said I was the best one suited for the job in the whole company…”

“They’re right,” Kenma mumbles, a small compliment amongst his many shifty ones. “I know Russian.”

Kenma can feel the grin Kuroo gives him against his forehead.

“But you still won’t teach me, even if I took the promotion.”

“Nope,” Kenma replies, “I’m not a teacher, Kuro. You’d need to find someone who’s better suited for it.”

“It’s a hypothetical, anyway. I’m not taking the job. I don’t think we can get married in Russia, right?”

“Mmn-nn.” Kenma hums a negative tone, indicating that they couldn’t.

“Or adopt.”

Kenma bites his lip at that. They’d _started_ conversations about having children before, but never finished them. Kenma always managed to slip away before he got too caught up in his head, managed to run a bath and lock the door before Kuroo could press him any further. He knows that it’s not intentional, the way Kuroo keeps asking him over and over again- it’s something that naturally comes up in conversations. Watching a movie with a happy family, or Kuroo’s work friends asking _“So are you planning for kids yet?”_ at karaoke dinners that make Kenma’s skin crawl. They’d been together for almost ten years now, and Kuroo’s about to turn thirty, for Christ’s sake, they’d better adopt so they can take proper care of their kids before they’re too old and decrepit to do so.

“Yeah,” Kenma murmurs out after a split second pause, “That too.”

He doesn’t say anything more after that.

It’s not that Kenma doesn’t _want_ kids, it’s just that he’d feel _guilty_ about having them. (He’s never told Kuroo this before.) He feels guilty knowing that they would have a kid or two whose parents loved them, sure, but were never around as much as they wanted. He’d feel guilty because he knows that Kuroo would do most of the work due to his own stubborn nature. He’s trying to fix that, he really is- try new foods, go new places alone, order food in a crowded place, get out of his comfort zone… But anxiety isn’t something you can fix with just a breath of fresh air.

Neither of them are mentally stable- the antidepressant bottles in the bathroom cabinet have both of their names on them; Both of them struggle constantly. Sometimes they yell, sometimes they cry, sometimes they have terrible, fucked up nights. He doesn’t want their kids to have to deal with that more than they do. He doesn’t want their kids to see the negative parts of them, doesn’t want to see the nights that aren’t as easy as this one is. It’s not that Kenma doesn’t want kids- he doesn’t want to _fail_ them.

Competitive spirits learn to compete with themselves if there’s nobody to battle with, Kenma’s found from experience.

Kuroo strokes Kenma’s sides, eyes dark and cutting to take in all of Kenma’s appearance. Kenma’s grown used to the way Kuroo observes him after all these years, so he sighs reluctantly and lifts his head to press a sweet kiss to Kuroo’s lips. Kuroo’s not surprised, but he smiles pleasantly, his lips moving languidly against Kenma’s. Just when Kenma thinks he’s going to pull away, Kuroo pulls him back in again, silently, with just the curve of his lips against his own.

A push and pull that always ends up with Kuroo pulling- he’s found Kuroo to be like a tidal wave at times, taking and taking and taking before everything crashes down at once, devastation reigning.

The kiss doesn’t end, but it doesn’t progress, either. Kenma doesn’t feel Kuroo’s hands on his bare stomach, instead just resting on his waist, the other with his fingers tangled in the very end of Kenma’s long hair. He feels protected like this. Loved.

He always feels loved around Kuroo.

That’s why he wants to marry him, he thinks. That loving feeling. That’s why people marry each other, right?

Kenma finds himself grinning, their chins pressing together as they enter another slow, sleepy kiss.

He's drifting off to the slow movements of Kuroo’s lips, and he can tell Kuroo’s getting a little weary himself, the way his lips melt a little more with each subtle break and crash, and he lets his thoughts clear away. Kenma falls asleep under Kuroo’s touch, under his warmth, under his breath, and he can’t help but think how everything paid off in the end.

He gets to marry this man. This man he’s known for almost twenty years now, his first crush, first love, his first (almost) everything. In the last moments of his consciousness, he finds himself being a little selfish. _I wish he was my first kiss, I wish he was my first boyfriend, I wish he was my first time…_

It’s stupid to think, really, because no matter who their “firsts” were, they’d always be each others’ “forevers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've always wanted to write something just purely pillowtalk fluff, no need for any sort of plotlines or anything. It comforted me writing it, so I hope it comforts you too :)
> 
> Comments, Kudos, and shares are appreciated!
> 
> Follow me on [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kozumye) for more constant Kuroken!


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